


lets be honest

by dearwormwood



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Depressed Keith (Voltron), Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Has Anxiety, M/M, Panic Attacks, this was kind of a therapy write that got out of hand rip, too many emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-02-19 01:59:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13113549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearwormwood/pseuds/dearwormwood
Summary: Keith's life is a mess of dealing with emotions and sometimes, lack thereof. But there's always Lance there, to pick him back up.CW for depression and panic attacks.Ch2 now up!!





	1. lets be honest

The air felt thick, viscous and uncomfortable.

It clung to Keith’s skin, draping over him like a hot itchy lead blanket. Everything felt muted, like he wasn’t actually there. Maybe he wasn’t. Sometimes he’d stare at his hand, flex his fingers, and he’d be surprised they would move. He felt- _disembodied._ He didn’t feel bad, or good. He just felt nothing.

 His phone had run flat the other day, and he couldn’t bring himself to charge it. His days ran quickly and quietly. Wake up. Shower. Go to work. Come home. Sleep. Most days he forgot to eat. He knew it was bad, and sometimes when he remembered he would nibble on the stale bread in his cupboard.

Sometimes real thoughts seeped through like: _‘I should go shopping,’ ‘I need to charge my phone,’ ‘I should probably call Shiro and tell him I’m okay.’_ But he never did, and his cycle of nothingness continued.

Because the truth was he wasn’t okay. He couldn’t go shopping because he didn’t care that his bread and cereal was stale. He didn’t want to charge his phone because then he would have to answer all the texts and calls. His co-workers gave him funny looks at work. They never seemed to approach him, as he slid around the restaurant, methodically and silently doing his job. Once one of them, he hadn’t been able to focus enough to recall her name, has touched his arm and asked if he was okay. He remembered the false smile he grew, and how the words he’d answered had tasted strange and not-him on his tongue.

Now, it was the weekend. He’d been in- in this state, for two weeks. This _funk_. If he could even pull his head up long enough to acknowledge it as such.

When it happened, he didn’t know what the time was.

 He’d been sleeping (he seemed to do a lot of that), and there had been a quick succession of knocks at his door. For a moment, he’d thought they weren’t real, a dream, and opted to drift back to sleep.

Unfortunately, the knocking continued, and there was a muffled shout of his name. Groaning loudly, he shuffled off his bed and to the front door. Who the fuck would be bothering him on a Saturday? He slowly unlocked the door, and peeked it open to have a look at who was there.

Shiro, perhaps?

Apparently not.

It was Lance, of all fucking people.

He looked flustered, concerned. His hair was unusually ruffled, like he’d been running his hands through it.

“Keith.” Lances shoulders sagged in... relief? Was there something wrong?

“Lance. Is there something wrong?” His voice was rough, and it still didn’t feel right. But for a fleeting moment he felt real, looking at Lance through the crack in his door.

“Is there- HAH!” Lance snorted sarcastically maybe, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Can I just- can I please come in?” he pleaded, a raw kind of emotion in his voice.

Keith hesitated, wanting to say no. He wanted to go back to sleep. But Lance looked desperate. Maybe something really was wrong. Slowly, Keith opened the door, and Lance all but surged in. Now Lance could properly see Keith, in all his glory.

His eyebrow creased, and for a second, his hands hovered by Keith’s side, to touch him, before dropping.

“We haven’t heard anything from you in two weeks. I-We thought you were like, _dead._ ”

Oh.

_Oh._

It clicked together in Keith’s lethargic brain.

“Is your phone off or something? All our calls have been going straight through.” Lance sounds irritated. At Keith, maybe.

“Yeah. I haven’t charged it.” Lance frowned, heavily, at Keith’s answer. He didn’t say anything more, though, and opted to look around Keith’s apartment. His nose wrinkled, and Keith felt judged. It was a very real emotion.

“You also haven’t cleaned anything.” Keith shifted to cross his arms, neglecting to respond. What was he meant to say? That he’d been so caught up in his.... wallowing that he hadn’t even noticed the mess? “Have you been living like this for two weeks? What have you been eating?” At that particular moment, Keith’s stomach growled, and answered Lances question. Nothing good.

“Umm, I don’t know. Bread. Cereal.” Very stale bread and cereal. Lance frowned more and he looked genuinely upset. It made Keith’s heart beat for the first time in a while, thawing out the ice around it.

Lance was quiet for a moment, thinking maybe. Then he moved, drifting into Keith’s bedroom, and Keith followed him. He was rifling through his cupboard, and finally pulled out Keith’s jacket, throwing it at him.

“Here. We’re going to get lunch, and go shopping. And then we’re going to come back and clean this place.” Lance looked at Keith, hard, like he was going to protest. But the truth was, he couldn’t be bothered. He didn’t want to go shopping or to lunch or to clean, but he just- couldn’t argue with Lance. He felt the tiredness in his bones like lead, but he wouldn’t argue.

“Okay,” he mumbled back, but the answer didn’t seem to satisfy Lance. Maybe he’d wanted Keith to protest. He didn’t say anything more though, and left the room for Keith to get changed.

When Keith emerged in his new clothes, Lance took a second to even register he was done. He was lost in thought, and the furrow in his brow that had been present the whole time was deeper. It didn’t suit him, but Keith didn’t know how to help him. Didn’t know if he wanted to.

“I’m ready.” Keith’s voice was still gruff, and Lance started. He looked at Keith, long and pitiful, before shrugging off to move away. Lance’s pity made a sickly curl in Keith’s stomach, but it was dull enough for Keith to ignore, much like anything else he felt.

“What are you feeling like? Chinese? Thai? Italian? Junk food?” Lance fired off food places in quick succession, speaking as loud and as fast as he usually did. Compensating for the silence. “Personally I feel like Chinese, but I had it yesterday and the day before so I think I’m going a bit overboard. What do you think?” Lance’s chatter was... something. Keith didn’t know if he wanted him to shut up or to continue.

“I don’t know. Chinese is good.” Lance frowned again, but nodded.

“I guess some more won’t hurt.”

 

They ate at the restaurant in silence. Lance asked Keith questions, but he gave short answers, and eventually Lance gave up. When it came to grocery shopping, Lance would ask Keith what he had or what he thought he had, but for the most part Keith just hovered behind him, quiet.

Keith just wanted to be home, asleep, and alone. But he didn’t want to hurt Lances feelings. And now that Lance had made Keith charge his phone, there’d be no escaping the onslaught of texts and calls.

Lance bought some cleaning supplies, even though Keith thought he probably had some. He didn’t say anything, and they travelled home.

Once they set about cleaning, Keith felt it. He felt all those emotions he’d been... ignoring for the past two weeks crawling back in. And it made him feel sick. Everything was too much, as the smell of ammonia made his head spin, and he felt nauseous. His chest hurt, but he didn’t want to alert Lance.

He knew what was coming, and it made him feel pathetic.

Why was it happening now? When he was just scrubbing the counter top, in silence? It could’ve happened in the Chinese restaurant, or in the grocery store. At least then Keith would have an excuse. The crowd, the people.

Here, there was only him and Lance, and the creeping chill up his spine. He sharply drew in a breath, in an attempt to abate the crushing feeling rising in his lungs, his heart his neck his mouth. His knuckles tightened around the scrubbing brush, and he was going to vomit or something because the smell of the fucking cleaner was getting to his head.

In a flurry of panic, he backed away from the counter top to get a gasp of fresh air, and another and another. The brush slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground loudly, too loudly.

“Keith?” Lance called and oh no. He was going to find Keith like this, shaky and panicky and hadn’t Lance done enough for Keith? Hadn’t he dealt with enough? Keith fell to the ground, hastily grabbing the brush, when Lance came into the kitchen.

“You okay?” He sounded concerned and Keith could hardly breathe, he was going to fucking vomit and cry but he couldn’t because that was weak and pathetic and Lance shouldn’t have to deal with that.

“Y-Yes. I j-just dropped the b-brush.” He hated the way his voice, his hands, quivered, and how he couldn’t bring himself to stand up despite Lances stare.

“Hey, Keith. Are you okay?” This was more of a question than before. Keith sucked in a raggedy breath, noisy and harsh, and it hurt his chest even more. He sunk back, onto his backside to lean against the cupboards. He let out a pitiful moan, and Lance was already next to him, holding his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I- I can’t-“ Keith floundered for words, and had to suck in another sharp breath.

“Hey hey, woah. What are you sorry for? You can’t what? Its okay, you’re going to be okay.” Lances voice is soft and soothing, as he moves to rub circles into Keith’s back.

Any other time, Keith would appreciate it, but it just makes him feel choked even more now. Why had Lance come? Why couldn’t he have just left Keith alone? _Because he cares,_ a small voice whispered. What a fucking _curse_.

“I can’t even- I can’t even clean this stupid apartment by myself. I can’t even t-take care of myself for two weeks because everything just f-falls apart. I’m so sick of it, Lance,” he moaned, shuddering with the choke of hot tears streaming down his face. “I’m sick of f-feeling like this. I’m s-sick of needing to be r-rescued from myself. I feel so p-pathetic all the time.” The words tumbled out of him rapidly, and he had to heave a breath at the end of it.

“Keith.” Lances voice sounds strained, pitying Keith. And that makes him hate everything even more, because he has to be pitied. “It’s o-okay to feel like that. It goes away, Keith, it gets better.” It was a weak attempt to make him feel better, and Keith snorted pathetically.

“You sound like one of those stupid fucking self-help books. I don’t want it to get better. I want it to BE better.” Lance is silent then, and Keith crumples into himself, hideous sobs wrenching out of him.

Lance just sits there, hand tracing shapes on his back, as Keith’s cries into his hands. And oh, he cries. He cried hard and painfully, till his chest felt like exploding and his tears were dry and then some more.

He cried as he collapsed into Lances lap, pressing his face into the warmth of his thigh.

He cried until he’s empty, and quiet, and Lance thinks he’s asleep.

He’s not though, and he thinks Lance realises that eventually.

Feeling weak and useless and pathetic, he lets Lance scoop him up, carrying him effortlessly to his bedroom bridal-style. He sinks down into the bed, sniffling and shivering, as Lance pulls the blanket over him. He doesn’t even speak when Lance leaves, switching the light off, throwing Keith into the choking, lonely darkness once again.

 

—

 

When Keith wakes, his head is sticky and he feels extremely dehydrated. Blearily, he looks up to see a glass of water on his bedside table, and greedily reaches for it.

It’s the late afternoon, the sun setting low in the sky. Orange light manages to crack through in some spots, but the curtains are shut tightly.  

Gulping down the water, Keith shifts around to pull the blanket over his head. He could hear the TV outside his room, meaning Lance was still here. Why hadn’t he gone home? Keith continued to lie in bed, not really feeling like getting up. He felt more alive, more real, than earlier, but he was still tired. Still lethargic. His head hurt, probably from all the crying. Eventually, a soft knock at the door sounded, and his bedroom door creaked open.

“Keith, buddy? You awake?” Lance called out very softly, and Keith debated pretending to be asleep. He decided against it, and made a noise of acknowledgement as he moved around to poke his head out. Lance hovered by the door, before swallowing and coming in. He plopped himself onto the end of Keith’s bed, by his feet, and looked at Keith. There was a gentle emotion in Lances eyes that made Keith nervous. “How are you feeling?” Lance asked quietly, blinking slowly. Keith swallowed, before answering.

“Okay. I guess. You could’ve gone home.” Keith’s voice sounded hollow and croaky, and suddenly Lance was climbing up the bed to lie next to Keith, staring into his face much closer now. Keith’s heart thumped noisily in his heart, and he could feel sweat gathering on his palms.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright. Plus, my home is boring. You have good cable.” Lance smiled cheekily as he said it, and Keith forced a small one back. “You know, w-we- I, _I,_ was really worried about you. When you just, dropped off the face of the Earth. Shiro called your work to make sure you were still alive.” That would’ve explained his co-worker asking him if he was okay. “Why didn’t you tell any of us you were feeling that way?” If only it were that fucking easy.

“I didn’t want to,” Keith mumbled, and Lance frowned, eyebrows furrowing. He didn’t say anything more though. Keith sighed, and he moved forward now, closer to Lance. He felt sickeningly alone, he had for so long, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Lance didn’t say anything, as Keith pressed his forehead into Lances chest, curling up tight into him. Lance didn’t move for a moment, before he shifted to entwine their legs together, arm looping over Keith’s waist. He sighed heavily, Keith could feel the breath tickling his hair, but didn’t seem to say anything more.

Keith couldn’t find the words to tell Lance how he felt. He wanted to say thank you, to cry and tell him that Keith would’ve let himself wither away if he hadn’t of intervened. He wanted to yell at Lance, tell him to leave him alone and mind his own business. But Keith was too tired, and couldn’t find any of the appropriate responses. He let himself close his eyes, and fall back asleep. He’s pretty sure Lance falls asleep eventually as well.

 

—

 

 They both wake up to Lances phone ringing shrilly. It’s the next day, Keith thinks, which is weird for both of them to slept completely through to. Lances hand hits his phone, and he quickly answers it, sniffling with sleep still.

“Uh, ya, this is um- Lance. Whoissit?” Keith takes the opportunity to unstick himself from Lance, their limbs entangled and wrapped around each other. “Nngh, Hunk? I wa’ asleep.” Lance sits up, rubbing his face, looking like he was going to fall asleep right there on the phone. “Yeah I’m with Keith- no not like /that/.” Lances face grows a bit red and so does Keith, but he turns away so Lance doesn’t see. “We’re fine. But if you could bring pizza- oh wait no.” Keith rolls over, shaking his head adamantly. He doesn’t want to face Hunk as well right now. Even for pizza. “Apparently we already have leftover pizza, thanks though buddy. Yes, I’ll make sure Keith calls Shiro. Okay. Thank you. Good bye. Goodbye. Goodbye Hunk.” Lance easily lies to Hunk, before rolling his eyes and hugging as he tried to get off the phone. Finally, he hung up, placing his phone down on the bedside table. They sat there for a moment, silently, before Lance rolled off the bed with a grunt as he stood up. “I’m gonna go make some breakfast, okay? You should. Um. Call Shiro. He’s really worried.” Lance’s face looks a bit red, and Keith nods dumbly.

He knows he needs to call Shiro anyway. He felt bad, sickeningly so, for ignoring Shiro for so long. He knew how bad it could get, and that made Shiro worry more.

Hesitantly, he reached for his phone, which was on silent, and flipped it over to look at the ridiculously long chain of messages from everyone. He neglected to read them, saving that for possibly when he was alone, and went straight to calling Shiro.

He had 37 missed calls from him, but Keith ignored the way that made his stomach drop. He picked up on the first ring.

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice sounded shocked and strained, and oh god Keith was going to cry, wasn’t he? How mortifying.

“H-hey. I’m sorry I-I didn’t call e-earlier. I was u-um-“ Keith let himself drift off there, and Shiro was silent for a moment. Was he mad? He didn’t think he could deal with himself if Shiro was mad at him.

“It’s okay. I’m not angry, Keith. I was just-“ Shiro sighed on the other end of the phone, and Keith’s eyes stung shamefully. Why couldn’t he just handle one phone call with Shiro without bawling? “I was _so_ worried, Keith. I thought something terrible had happened.” _again_. The word hovered at the end of Shiro’s sentence, unspoken. Happened again. Keith sniffed softly. “We were all worried. Lance wouldn’t stop calling or texting me to see if I’d heard from you. He’s with you now, isn’t he?”

“Y-Yeah. He’s in the kitchen.” Keith’s voice was embarrassingly shaky. “I’m sorry, Shiro. I didn’t charge my phone, I don’t know why. I just- couldn’t be bothered. God, that sounds so shitty. I’m so sorry.” Keith was on the verge of blubbering and there was another long exhale on the other line.

“Stop apologising Keith, you can’t help how you feel. You know no matter what I’ll always be here for you, and you can talk to me whenever you’re feeling- _bad_ again.” Yeah. Yeah, Keith was crying. He sniffed thickly, and let out a hitching breath. Shiro’s voice was beginning to waver now. “You know I love you, Keith. You’re my brother and if anything happened to you I-“ Don’t say it, Shiro. “I don’t know what I’d do.” Keith hitched and a tiny sob escaped him, his arm moving to cover his mouth as he did. This was so fucking embarrassing, Lance could walk in at any moment and see Keith crying pathetically on the phone to his big brother.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know what set it off,” Keith moaned softly, and there was a sniffle on the other line. Jesus fucking Christ, if Shiro cries then Keith will be hysterical. “I just felt nothing. It felt so awful but a-at the same time it didn’t feel like anything. I don’t think I would’ve cared if I had- if I had died then.” A third sigh, this one hitched at the end now. Keith heaved with the effort to stop crying, but the sobs kept building up and burning through him.

“You have to- you have to tell me when it gets like that Keith. I can’t- we can’t help you if you don’t tell us.” Shiro’s voice is thick, and he suddenly sucks in a sharp breath. “God, enough of this sappy stuff. Lance came over didn’t he? What happened?”

“You’d be proud of him. He forced me to go eat and go shopping. He even made me clean the apartment.” Shiro laughed quietly at that. Keith smiles too, because he can’t fucking help it. “I-I had a panic attack. But it was okay. We were okay.” Keith speaks a little bit lower now, and Shiro hums on the other line.

“I’m glad to hear. I’ll have to thank Lance when I see him next.” Keith’s face burns red at that, and he wipes his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, sniffing again. “Listen, buddy. I have to go. I’m- I’m really glad you’re feeling better, and you called me. Text me later, please,” Shiro asks, and Keith mumbles a quiet _I will,_ before the line cuts out.

Keith sits on his bed, breathing shakily and sniffling as he tries to compose himself before going out into the kitchen. He knows he’s an ugly crier, because his face gets all blotchy and red and Keith doesn’t want Lance to see that. Again, at least. It seems silly, Keith’s embarrassment, considering Lance watched Keith have a breakdown yesterday.

Keith finally slipped off the bed, ducking into his en-suite bathroom to splash his face (and y’know. Look at his face. Something he hasn’t done in two weeks). And god, does Keith look terrible. He has huge dark circles under his eyes, despite the absurd amount of sleep he’s been getting. His cheeks look gaunt, probably from the lack of food. He’s pale, more so than usual. Jesus, no wonder Lance was fucking worried. Keith looked like a fucking zombie

(It appeared to him then, that such concerns about his appearance were a very human and alive thought to have. He welcomed them, almost).

Resigning himself to accept his sunken appearance, he left his bathroom and bedroom to the kitchen. The warm and enticing smell of omelettes and bacon crept out of the kitchen, and Keith’s stomach rumbles noisily. Fuck he was starving. He’d forgotten what that felt like. Jeez, bawling your eyes out on the kitchen floor really does help.

“He rises. How did the phone call with Shiro go?” Lance chirps, chipper for the mornings.

“Um, good,” Keith answers hesitantly, unsure of what to respond with. “It smells good in here. I forgot what we even bought yesterday.” A bit of a lie, considering Keith had never known what they’d bought in order to forget. He just remembered saying yes and no a lot.

“My mamas secret omelette recipe! Even Hunk hails it,” Lance boasts proudly, flipping the omelette and watching it sizzle. There’s one on a plate already, and a pile of bacon on another plate.

“Amazing,” Keith deadpans, reaching for the food greedily. Lance passes the plate over to him, as well as cutlery. Keith digs in, ravenous for food. The Chinese yesterday had definitely not sufficed. “Holy fuck,” Keith whispered in awe, his mouth watering as he devoured bite after bite. Lance came around the bench and sat next to Keith once he was done cooking, eating his own omelette much slower than Keith.

“Good?” Lance prompted, nudging Keith’s side. There was a lightness to his voice that hadn’t been there yesterday. Keith’s heart fluttered pathetically at it.

“So fucking good,” Keith answered through a mouth of God-Omelette. Once he was done, Keith moved to attack the bacon, Lance quickly fishing away two pieces before Keith devoured the rest.

“Jesus Keith. You’re gonna get sick.” But did Keith care? No. He wanted to eat as much bacon and omelette as he could. On the last piece of bacon, Keith actually did begin to feel sick, and left it half eaten. He felt ridiculously bloated and full, but it was a good feeling. Lance still had half his omelette left, apparently too distracted watching Keith stuff his face to eat.

Keith slinked over to the couch, feeling stiff and heavy with food. He flopped down onto it, groaning. Lance joined him soon after, lifting Keith’s legs to slide under them.

“Do you want to go out and get coffee?” Lance asked after a moment of silence, and fuck, Keith really wanted to. But, he knew he shouldn’t.

“I should probably. Get back to everyone. Maybe later, though.” Keith turned his face to look at Lance. He looked a little displeased, and a twist of guilt churned in Keith’s stomach.

“That’s okay! I should probably get home as well,” Lance replied, stretching his arms high above his head. His shirt rose, and there was a sliver of tan skin showing. Keith didn’t look (maybe a little). “You’ll be okay, right? Text me, yeah?” Lance stared at Keith now, hard. There was an intensity in his eyes that made Keith squirm.

“Yeah I will. Don’t worry,” Keith reassured, and Lance smiled softly. Fuck, that’s a pretty smile. Keith sat up, allowing Lance to get up off the couch and gather his things. Keith watched, kind of sadly, as he got ready to leave. He didn’t really want Lance to go, it was nice having him around. But he knew he had things to do without Lance. Still. “Hey. Thanks. A lot.” Lance stopped, looking back at Keith. He had a funny expression on, a mix between sadness and... some kind of other emotion.

“It’s okay. Anytime. Seriously, anytime.”

“I don’t know, um, how long it- I- would’ve gone on like that, if y’know. You hadn’t come. Probably till Shiro came and kicked my ass.” Lance smiled at that, and he shifted awkwardly. God Keith was terrible at this touchy feely shit.

“The sappy shit doesn’t suit you Keith. I’ll see you later. Don’t forget to text me.”

And with that, Lance left, and Keith was alone.


	2. pray for a fire, wait for a flood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith deals with a ridiculous influx of emotions and has to learn what to do with them.

Lance had been staying over more and more often. It had become almost routine. It started as he was just 'chilling' because Keith apparently had better cable. Then Lance would just happen to fall asleep on the couch, and Keith would feel too bad to ask him to leave. It got to the point where Lance didn't even bother with excuses and would just show up out of the blue. Lance slept on the couch most nights, but sometimes Keith would offer him to share the bed. He knew from a lot of late nights that the couch wasn’t very good on the back. At first, Keith took it for pity, that Lance was scared to leave Keith alone. He acknowledged it with a bitter taste in his mouth but remained silent. Eventually he didn't care that much, was grateful for that one constant in his life. Most of the time.

Sometimes Lance would show up, when Keith was bone-tired and quiet. Lance slept on the couch those days, because the thought of curling up next to someone was so tiring and repulsive to Keith he couldn't bear it. He could never ask Lance to leave, for him to just go home, but he felt like it a lot of the time. Lance was too loud, too chipper. On those days, Lance would notice, and try to be quieter. It was a small comfort.

On the rare occasion that Lance would text ahead, Keith would fumble for some kind of excuse. Lance usually took the hint, but sometimes he didn't. Keith had to deal with the sour feeling of wanting desperately to be _alone._

And when he was alone, he found it almost _unbearable._

The stillness of his apartment. The lack of chatter. The way his bed felt so empty, and he craved for a warm arm wrapped tightly around his waist. Keith would realise in those lonely nights that he took Lance's presence for granted, and that he wanted him there, always with him. Keith could never quell his loud beating heart long enough to ask Lance to come over though. The thought made him nauseous, his fingers itching to type out the message but his brain vehemently refusing to allow it to happen.

Lance was there then, stretched out in all tan limbs and skin on the couch, engrossed in some mindless television. He’d been somewhat reserved tonight. Perhaps he sensed Keith was feeling flighty. Keith was curled up by his feet, his skin aching to be touched but simultaneously repulsed by it, by what it meant.

"You good, Keith?" Lance finally asked, after a while of silence and stillness. Keith jerked at the question, looking at Lance in surprise.

"Y-Yeah. I'm fine," he lied softly. Lance stared at him a little longer, blue eyes brimming with concern. It made Keith's throat tight with anxiety, the thought of spilling his guts to someone. Even if he'd already spilled his guts to him, crying on the kitchen floor in the late afternoon. That day had been a topic of contention between them. Something Lance tried to bring up, but Keith shut down immediately. Keith had never been… _good_ at talking about his emotions. Especially to Lance, who seemed so interested and concerned that it scared Keith. It scared him to have a relationship like that, something so emotional and dependent. It made him feel trapped.

"Alright then." Lance didn't pry, but Keith could tell he wasn't satisfied. Keith was immensely grateful for that, that Lance knew when to pry and when not to. Lance was easier to read now, then he had been weeks ago. They went back to watching whatever they had been watching, though Keith felt too strung up to really focus on it.

It was late evening now, and after a while Keith could feel the drag of sleep on him. His body leaned of its own accord against the side of the couch, and his eyelids grew heavy. Lance didn't disturb him, although he looked over at Keith so often that he for sure knew Keith was falling asleep. The blanket of sleepiness curled around Keith as he drifted off, legs extending out to press against Lance's calves. He was warm, and comfortable, despite the awkward angle his neck was at.

He didn't really realise how long he slept, but he knew it must've been a deep sleep because when he woke he was in his bed. It felt strangely intimate, and nostalgic, to know Lance had carried him to his bed. It reminded him of when he fell asleep in the car as a child and his parents would carry him to his room. He woke slowly, heart fluttering oddly with emotion. His room was dark, but there was light coming from his living room and quiet humming. Looking over at the clock, Keith registered it was almost one in the morning. Usually Lance would be asleep at this time, constantly complaining about needing his beauty sleep. Slowly, Keith slipped out of the bed, wrapping the duvet tight around his shoulders as he shuffled out, still drowsy.

"Lance?" Keith's voice was thick with sleep still, and Keith watched as Lance jumped, cursing loudly. "Why are you still up?"

"Fuckin' shit Keith, you scared the crap out of me." He neatly dodged Keith's question, which Keith noticed, shuffling closer. Lance turned, eyes roaming over Keith's bedraggled form. His eyes softened for a moment, a gentle emotion that should've made Keith anxious. _I guess I'm just too tired to be anxious right now._ "I just couldn't get to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you." Lance looked genuinely guilty, as if disturbing Keith's sleep was some kind of unforgiveable crime.

"It's fine, I don't mind. Are you okay?" _Isn't it usually Lance asking me that? When was the last time I asked him if he was okay?_ Lance looked at Keith, somewhat surprised, and _wow_ Keith kind of felt like an asshole. Was asking about Lance really that uncommon of a thing for him to do?

Lance smiled frailly, walking over to Keith until they were standing inches from each other. Slowly, as if with great hesitation, Lance let his head fall against Keith's shoulder. He sighed loudly, and Keith let the duvet drop to the ground in favour of curling his hand around the back of Lance's neck.

"It's just been a long day." Keith felt an unpleasant feeling growing in his stomach, anger mixed with concern. Anger at whatever had caused Lance distress. Concern that it was still affecting Lance, at 1am. Lance paused, pushing his face into Keith's shoulder a little more. Keith felt his heart speed up, but not from anxiety. "Thank you."

"C'mon. Let's- let's go to bed." _Let's go to bed. Like a couple._ Keith felt nausea at that thought. Everything they were doing, everything that was happening, felt so… _domestic._ Keith kept his anxiety shoved down though, in favour of comforting Lance, who was unusually quiet. Something about one in the morning made everyone seem so vulnerable. Words could be said and forgotten with no reprimand.

Keith bundled back up the duvet into his arms and threw it over Lance’s shoulders. He smiled as best as he could when Lance looked up at him, although it probably came out as more of a grimace. Keith was so used to being the one falling apart he didn’t know how to pick someone else up. God, how long had Keith been this _selfish?_

They shuffled back into the bedroom, Lance sinking silently into the bed without saying anything. Keith crawled in next to him, allowing himself the feeling of huddling closer to Lance. Lance threw some of the blanket over Keith, his arm following to lay over Keith’s waist. Lance sighed, and Keith wanted to wipe away his troubles, to keep him under the blankets forever. _He’s not your boyfriend. You can’t protect him._ Keith couldn’t help the hopeless thoughts though.

Keith rolled over, so he was facing Lance. Their faces were barely an inch apart, noses almost brushing. Up this close, even in the swallows of darkness, Keith could see Lance’s freckles. His long lashes brushing against them as he blinked. Lance’s eyes flicked down, and up to meet Keith’s gaze. There was a tiredness in his eyes that made Keith’s soul ache.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keith asked, breathlessly. Lance smiled thinly, tightening his arm the tiniest amount around Keith’s waist. The warm heat from it made Keith feel strange, a fluttering light feeling in his chest.

“Not just yet. Let’s go to sleep, okay?” Lance mumbled, exhaling deeply. His breath fanned across Keith’s face, and Keith nodded, watching as Lance’s eyes quivered shut. He waited, until Lance’s breath deepened, and his body released an unknown tension. He waited until Lance tugged him closer, pressed his face into Keith’s chest. He waited until his own eyes couldn’t stay awake anymore, and he fell asleep wrapped around Lance as well.

 

 

— 

“Soo, do you think you’ll tell him?” Shiro’s voice crackled over the phone, as Keith busied himself with washing the dishes left over from last night. It had been a few days since Lance had last stayed over, and the silence of his apartment was beginning to choke Keith.

“Tell who? Tell him what?” Keith feigned ignorance, although he could take a guess at what Shiro was hinting at.

“Oh, I don’t know. The fact that you totally have a huge crush on Lance?” Keith dropped the plate he was holding into the water, squeaking when soap bubbles splashed onto his front. _Fuck._ Shiro really wasn’t beating around the bush today.

“Ummm. Never? Cause I _don’t?_ ” Keith snorted, but his voice was pitched too high for it to be convincing. Shiro laughed loudly, like Keith had told him the funniest joke ever. Blood rushed to Keith’s cheeks, and he grumbled. He really couldn’t hide anything from Shiro. “You know I won’t. I can’t- _do_ those kinds of things.” He let his voice go quieter, and Shiro stopped laughing. There was shuffling around, and a soft sigh. Keith picked up the plate he dropped, and furiously scrubbed at it some more.

“Sorry. I know. It’s just- I really think you should tell him. Lance isn’t going to _abandon_ you if you confess,” Shiro insisted, voice a lot sterner now. Like Keith was a child. He felt like one, most of the time. The thought of confessing to Lance made Keith’s hands shake with fiery anxiety, his heart almost exploding.

“I- I know that. It’s just- _hard_ ,” Keith mumbled meekly, and silence drifted between the two brothers.

“Well. I start work shortly, Keith, so I’m going to head off. I’ll text you when I’m off work. Love you, baby bro,” Shiro farewelled, and Keith grumbled his response. He unwedged his phone from between his ear and shoulder and placed it on the counter, grateful to be free from prying words.

The truth was, he’d only just managed to come to the conclusion that he _liked_ Lance. Dealing with his emotions was trouble enough, dealing with emotions about other people was worse. It had taken him _months_ to realise that that feeling he got around Lance was- _love._ That the reason that Lance took up about 85% of Keith’s thought process was because he liked him. He’d come to the conclusion at three in the morning, curled up in his bed, mind rampant with overwhelming thoughts. After that, he’d written, erased, and rewritten a love confession in the notes of his phone four times. That had been the night after he’d hugged Lance in the kitchen at one in the morning. Apparently, a lot of detrimental things happened in the very early morning.

Keith’s life was just one battle after another with his own psyche, and he was getting tired of it.

Keith had been avoiding Lance’s texts, like a petulant teenager who couldn’t deal with his feelings. He knew it was a low move, after all that Lance had done for Keith and Keith _hadn’t_ done for Lance, but he couldn’t help it.

So, when Lance knocked on Keith’s door that night, without a warning text for Keith to excuse himself out of, Keith swallowed thickly. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t face Lance without wanting to kiss him, without wanting to run away.

Keith opened the door a fraction, his bones heavy and blood sizzling. He was tired. So tired, of this mental fight. Lance whirled around, having been staring down the hallway, and grinned wildly at Keith. A drastic change to the other night.

“Hey man! I rented out this new tv show that I really want to watch, and I thought well- Hey, is everything all good?” Lance stopped mid-excitable-rant, eyebrows creasing in concern. He placed his hand against the door, as if he was going to start pushing. Keith held his ground, not allowing the door to open any more.

“I’m sorry Lance- just- I don’t think I can do it tonight.” Keith kept his voice meek, and he could hear his Mental-Shiro reprimanding him already for doing this. _Give him a chance, Keith._ _God knows he’s given you so many_. Lance’s face fell, before understanding and acceptance crept in.

“It’s okay. It’s fine, I should’ve texted you first anyway. Just, text me yeah? Don’t shut yourself away.” Keith wanted to cry. He nodded, staring at the ground in an attempt to hide the way his eyes burned with tears. He didn’t deserve Lance. He didn’t deserve him, because Keith had already planned to shut himself away. Only from Lance though, because Keith was a stupid child who couldn’t control his own emotions. Lance deserved someone who could treat him right. Not someone who needed to be coaxed into eating food that wasn’t stale.

Keith didn’t say anything in reply, easing the door shut with a _click._ He locked it, hands shaking so much he barely could. Sniffing, Keith refused to allow himself the luxury of crying. He didn’t deserve it.

Keith shuffled back to his room and ignored his phone lighting up with a new text from Lance.

 

— 

“You’re ignoring him. I thought we were past this.” Shiro’s voice was ice cold. He’d long stopped excusing Keith’s actions. He stood before Keith now, arms crossed across his chest. Keith was in Shiro and Allura’s apartment, since Lance came around to Keith’s far too often. It was getting too hard to deal with Lance’s quiet pleas through the door. “You’re hurting him.” Keith flinched, but Shiro didn’t appear to be sympathetic in the slightest.

“I don’t- I don’t mean to.” Keith’s voice was frail, and Shiro looked eternally exhausted and disappointed.

“Bullshit. Don’t make those shit excuses, Keith. You know what you’re doing. You _knew_ this was going to hurt Lance from the very start.” Shiro uncrossed his arms, his voice hard and angry. He pressed an indignant finger into Keith’s chest, accusing. “You’re doing this because you’re too scared to face the fact that you like him. Stop being so _selfish,_ Keith.” Keith flinched again, turning away now from Shiro.

“I don’t need a lecture,” Keith croaked, trying to hide the tremble in his voice.

“Apparently you do. You need to learn to deal with these things Keith. You can’t keep hiding forever.” Keith didn’t answer Shiro. He couldn’t, because he didn’t have an excuse this time.

 

 

 —

Lance stopped coming around. He stopped texting and calling. Pidge and Hunk didn’t mention him around Keith anymore. Even Allura avoided mentioning him. It was like Shiro and Keith were the only ones that knew what happened. That Keith had done this.

Pidge and Hunk treated him more coldly, with anger betraying their features. They didn’t invite Keith out a lot anymore, and Keith couldn’t blame them. They’d been friends with Lance a lot longer than they’d been friends with Keith. Eventually, Keith stopped answering their texts as well. Shiro and Allura quickly became the only people he saw out of his co-workers, and Shiro never failed to bring it up. Keith had begged him to just let him sort it out, but Shiro had laughed harshly at the thought that Keith _could_ sort this out.

He needed to talk to Lance, to apologise to him. To confess. Beg for forgiveness.

To tell the truth, Keith barely went home to his apartment anymore. It felt wrong, without hearing Lance knocking at his door or him rambling about some stupid show. Reasonably, Keith should’ve gotten used to the silence by now. It had been weeks. But he never did, and he never could.

Keith remembered sitting on the couch, wrapped in blankets with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. A storm had raged outside, and Lance had watched it all too earnestly. He had admitted, with a blush in his cheeks, that he often fantasized about a love confession in the rain, a passionate kiss as the skies saturated him. Keith had laughed softly at the thought, insisting that it would be far too wet and cold for Lance to really appreciate the moment if it ever did happen.

It was raining now, thunder clashing loudly and lighting splitting the night sky. Keith, as he did most days, was thinking of Lance. Thinking about messy kisses in the rain, and love confessions. He thought about the smell of Lance’s cologne, and how it had smelt when he had hugged Keith desperately in the middle of the night. He thought about how he was beginning to forget what it smelt like, and that brought a hitching breath to his lungs.

He needed to talk to Lance.

 

 

—

“Keith. What are you doing here?” Lance did not, at all, look very happy to see Keith. If anything, he looked angry. Angry that Keith had had the audacity to show up _now_ , instead of weeks ago when it could be fixed. It was too late now, but Keith was going to try anyways.

“Is there anyone else here?” Keith evaded Lance’s question, peering past Lance. God, his heart was beating so loudly it was almost painful. “I want to talk to you. Please.” Thunder crashed outside. Keith shivered, his wet hair sticking to his face. He had ridden his bike here in the rain, and if Lance had the patience for it, he would tell Keith off for it.

“No, I’m alone.” He didn’t move to let Keith in, and Keith shifted, curling his arms around his chest to warm himself.  Finally, Lance sighed, and stepped aside to allow the dripping wet Keith to shuffle inside. “I’ll get you some clothes and a towel. Put your clothes in the dryer.” Keith nodded, wandering over to Lance’s dryer (because Lance’s had enough money to own one.). He stripped down to his boxers, skin cold and wet to the touch. Goosebumps littered his arms, but for some reason Keith doubted they were from the cold. Throwing his clothes in, he stood shivering most-naked in Lance’s laundry-room-slash-bathroom. This wasn’t really how he expected reconciling with Lance would go.

Lance returned, his face blank as he thrust clothes and a towel into Keith’s arms. Keith didn’t miss the slight pink tinge to his cheeks though, and smirked. Lance shut the door in his face, and Keith’s face dropped. Guess it wasn’t going to be _that_ easy.

Once Keith had dried himself off, he put on Lance’s clothes, which were the tiniest bit too big for Keith. He didn’t mind though, because they smelt like _Lance._ There was a faint whiff of his cologne still on it, and Keith would be lying if he said he didn’t take a long sniff out of it, pressing his nose hard into the fabric. 

He eventually left the bathroom, drying his hair off still before placing the towel in the dryer too. Lance was sitting on his kitchen counter, holding a full glass of water and just staring at it. His eyes were glazed over, like he was hard at thought.

“Lance?” Keith interrupted Lance, who started. He put the cup down and looked at Keith. For a moment, his expression was sad and hopeful. Then there was realisation, as if he was thinking _‘wait, no, I’m mad at him,’_ and anger quickly took over his face. Keith felt guilt burn hot in his stomach and looked away.

“So, you going to tell me what you came here to talk to me about?” Lance’s voice was so cold, it was unnatural. Keith didn’t blame him of course, but it felt wrong to see such an angry expression on him. Keith was used to the soft looks and gentle words.

“Yes. Just- just give me a moment. Can we sit on the couch?” Lance opened his mouth as if he was going to argue but saw the look on Keith’s face and silently followed him to the living room. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, tucked up and away from each other. It choked Keith with nostalgia of when they would lie together, legs entwined. Now they couldn’t do that. And it was Keith’s fault.

His eyes burned and _God_ , when had he become such an emotional fucking wreck? Keith never used to cry this much. Silently, he rubbed his finger and thumb together to compose himself.

“I-I don’t hate you. If that’s- if that’s why you think I… blocked you out.” Keith wringed his hands in his lap, intent on staring at them and looking anywhere except Lance’s face. The way they turned over and over, almost on their own accord, was like the feeling in Keith’s stomach. “I think I couldn’t- couldn’t _be_ around you anymore because I-“ _Because what, Keith? Because you can’t deal with your own feelings? Your own emotions about another person?_ “Because I-“ God, it felt like he was choking. Like there was a hand wrapped around his throat, not letting the words come out. Why did this have to be so hard?

“Because you?” Lance sounded impatient, and Keith knew he deserved to feel that way. Here was Keith, falling over words and stumbling. Unable to talk about himself, and how he felt. And there was Lance, who had no fucking clue.

“Because I- I can’t- _talk_ about these things. I can’t- _fuck._ I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Keith breathed out. It rattled him, and he could feel the familiar feeling of panic climbing up his spine. _Not now, please. Don’t fall apart for once._ “I-I- I _like_ you Lance. _More_ than like you. Fuck I might even love you. And I blocked you out because I c-can’t deal with my own emotions, and I can’t deal with the way I’m hanging off your every word and touch.” It was all coming out. Spilling out of his mouth like slick oil. He could hear his own breath’s getting faster. _Stop._ “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I can’t deal with myself. My f-feelings. Like I’m some kind of ridiculous fucking teenager, not 22. It’s pathetic isn’t it?” Keith looked up, at Lance now.

Looked him in the eye and saw that look that he dreaded. The mixed pity and confusion. It made Keith want to vomit. _Fuck._ He was panicking. Lance opened his mouth to speak, but Keith wasn’t done.

“It’s pathetic because I’m a _grown_ man, and I should- oh _fuck._ You shouldn’t have to- shouldn’t have to _deal_ with me. You deserve so much more and I’m- I’m- I think I’m- havingapanicattack,” Keith rushed out, lurching forward to put his head in his hands. He gasped for air, and it was painful. His head spun, and his chest was aching so much, and Lance wasn’t- he wasn’t saying anything. “I’m going to be sick.”

Keith stood up, and the blood rushed to his head from how fast he did it. He staggered, hand blindly hitting the couch arm to steady himself. Why couldn’t he- why was it so hard to move. It felt like everything was rushing past him, but at the same time he was stuck walking in honey. There was nothing sweet about this feeling though. _Where’s the bathroom again?_ The thought was a frightening calm in the storm, and Keith saw black spots from how fast he was breathing and how little oxygen he was getting.

“Keith-“ Lance called, and it sounded strange. Blood roared in Keith’s ears, and his shoulder hit the wall with a painful thud. He couldn’t stand anymore, everything was spinning too much, and it felt like someone was sitting on his chest. Keith let himself slide down the wall, legs shaking. How sad was this? He couldn’t even confess to someone without having a panic attack.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, and Keith looked up at Lance. He was always doing that, wasn’t he? Looking at Lance for the answer. The solution.

“Breathe with me, Keith. In, and out. In, and out. Come on, you can do it.” Lance’s face was indiscernible, as he breathed deeply for Keith. “In, and out. That’s it. You’re doing so good. In, and out.” It was kind of sad, how good Lance had gotten at calming Keith down. This kind of dependability was dangerous. He was trying not to depend on Lance so much, yet here he was. Waiting for Lance to put him back together.

When Keith could finally breathe at a normal pace, and everything wasn’t so painful and staggering, he let his head hit the wall behind him. He closed his eyes, because that was more bearable than looking at Lance right now.

“Keith, I-“ Here it comes. Keith really was going to cry now. He took another deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault.” It was instantaneous, to let Lance know that. None of this was ever his fault. It was Keith’s fault and his messy pathetic emotions.

“No- If I’d just- I’m sorry Keith. I think- hanging around you, helping you, gave me a sense of control. It made me feel like I could do something right. I shouldn’t have used you for that kind of- of self-validation.” Great. Here comes the moment where Lance tells Keith he was just a pity project. And Lance didn’t like Keith like that. Hot tears brimmed at his eyes. “But when I wasn’t- _helping_ you, I was falling in love. Because you’re so smart, and pretty, and funny, Keith. You don’t see that. And I wanted to make you see that.”

_What._

Keith opened his eyes now, looking at Lance. His brilliant blue eyes were shimmery with moisture, and he had such a weak smile on. Keith’s heart beat. Once. Twice. It felt like it hadn’t beat for a long time.

“I want you to see, Keith. That I- I love you too. And I have for a long time. I didn’t want to tell you because- because I didn’t want you to have to deal with _that._ You need to- you need to give yourself a fucking break.” Lance’s voice was wavering, and his hand reached out and held Keith’s cheek. His thumb skimmed across his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “You’re always so hard on yourself. You don’t have to have your life together by 22, Keith. It’s not pathetic. You’re not pathetic. I love you and- “

Keith couldn’t help it anymore. He surged forward, slamming his lips against Lance’s. The hand on his cheek moved to grip the back of his neck. For a moment, Lance was too surprised to reciprocate. But then he was kissing back, and kissing Lance was so much better than Keith could’ve ever imagined. He tasted like spearmint gum and smelt like that cologne Keith loved so much.

Keith’s hands messily slid into Lance’s hair, relishing in the way it slid through his fingers. His knees were aching from kneeling on the wood floor, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that much. Because suddenly everything was so much more _okay_ now. Lance didn’t think he was pathetic. Lance thought he was smart and funny and pretty. And Lance _loved_ him too.

And that made everything alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet!!! wasn't going to write a second chapter but yknow what??? fuck dat
> 
> thank u so much for reading!! plz follow me on tumblr @ saffron-skies  
> please leave a comment they literally inspire me so much <3

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! please check out my other fanfictions and my tumblr saffron-skies for more :) let me know what you thought! i kind of wrote this as like therapy for myself but then it got out of hand lmfao
> 
> edit: chapter two is now up!!! i wasn't originally going to do a second chapter but i saw love simon and in a fit of inspiration i pumped it the fuck out so ENJOY


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